


Still Breathing

by littleblackneko



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coming Out, Dating, FTM Lestrade, Fluff and Angst, Gender Dysphoria, Insecure Mycroft, M/M, Teenlock, Young Adult Mystrade, ftm Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10040159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackneko/pseuds/littleblackneko
Summary: Greg Lestrade comes to terms with his gender as his relationship develops with Mycroft Holmes.





	1. First Date

**Author's Note:**

> I noticed there was no trans!Lestrade and I just really wanted it. Hope you all enjoy!

**Still Breathing**

**_Are you scared to death to live?_ **

Ch 1- First Date

Greg Lestrade was a best-kept secret that no one was supposed to find out about. Not yet. Not even to his best mates. They all still called him Annalise. But that was torn away from him in a brief instance when he came across one Mycroft Holmes. 

His friend had set up the blind date, and Greg had worn a black, skull-patterned dress,  a black choker, and knee-high combat boots. He was dreading this. Once again, he would have to play the pretty punk-rock girl for whatever obnoxious sod people threw at him. But soon he would act gruff, or the boys would notice his leg hair, or say he was too “tomboyish” and that would be the end of it. He had almost given up on dating altogether since it always ended the same. But his friend had reassured him that this would be different, that they would click together so well. So Greg had figured what the hell and told his friend to arrange it. But now apprehension turned his stomach as he approached the cafe...and saw the most damn handsome man.

Greg fingered at his choker, hoping beyond hope that perhaps he would be for him. And that perhaps it would be different this time. Greg shoved open the door to the cafe and stepped inside with a swagger, his boots clicking on the floor, and approached the table, leaning against it and putting his thumb to his lips. "So are you the boy I'm meeting, I'm hoping?" 

He saw the young man look up, take in the short, soft, dyed-silver hair, the piercings, the hardcore outfit, and grin, almost terrifyingly. "I take it you're Annalise Lestrade." 

Greg gave a nod, smiling back as he looked at Mycroft, "That's me."

"So what's your real name?"

"What?"

"I know many things, but I cannot pull out of the air the male name you have chosen for yourself." 

"Wha' are you talking about?" Greg turned his lip up in a snarl. There was no way this...stranger could know his biggest secret. There was no way anyone could know it. 

"Oh sorry, was it not supposed to be obvious that you were transgender? I could tell before we even met, just by the way my acquaintance described you. Now that you're here, you've confirmed my hypothesis."

"There's nothing to confirm, cuz it ain't true." Greg snapped. His closest friends didn't even know about it, no way in hell was Mycroft Holmes going to be privy to it in an afternoon. 

"You wish I hadn't figured it out. It's private, a secret you've been keeping for five years, since you were seventeen years old. Let me assure you, your secret is safe with me. I'm quite knowledgeable about the subject since helping my brother through his transition and do not wish to cause you any unnecessary stress. I merely wish to address you properly"

"Yeah, great job with that," Greg snorted. "If you must know, you madman, it's Gregory. Greg Lestrade. But--."

"But no one else is to know. Of course, Gregory. Now shall we actually do what we came here for?"

Brilliant, Greg couldn't help but think. It felt nice, Greg thought, to have the pretense ripped away. But he suddenly felt disgustingly overexposed, both in soul and appearance. God, had it really been five years? And no one knew except a single person he hadn't told. He was twenty-two for god’s sake and he was still hiding who he was. Unable to transition and be properly himself out of fear. It was ridiculous! 

“He should be angry at Mycroft, at himself. He was embarrassed that he wasn't brave enough to share his label and had been called out on it. He wasn't brave enough to dress how he liked, act how he liked, or even use his name. He wanted that. He hadn't even realized how badly he'd wanted that until now. He could turn away from his desires right now...or he could actually have someone who called him Greg. Well, Gregory. 

"Yes, let's." 

The date went on for an hour and a half, and Greg was surprised to discover how compatible he and the posh boy were. They even liked the same music! Not to mention, Mycroft had the most sultry way of saying his name, in that proper accent, that it made Greg shiver every time he did it. He couldn't help but stare at the young man's lips, his brilliant ginger hair, his freckles, everything. Greg knew he wanted to do this again very, very soon. 

On the walk back to Greg's house (Mycroft had insisted on escorting him), Greg shoved a slip of paper into his hand, "Oi, call me alright?"

Mycroft nodded, smiling slyly. "Of course, Gregory." 

Greg felt a slight stab in his chest. It was so wonderful to hear his name aloud, but at the same time, he knew he was trapped in Annalise. That no one else would be calling him that anytime soon, because he was a coward. He was lost in thought, but Mycroft gave him the courtesy of not commenting on it. 

When they reached his house, Mycroft took him by both hands and turned Greg to face him. "I had a lovely time," and thankfully Mycroft noticed that Greg's mother was in the front room, right near the window within earshot, "Annalise." He mouthed the words "i'm sorry" at Greg and Greg gave him a nod of forgiveness. It hurt, but he knew it couldn't be avoided.

"Me too, My." Greg stood on his tiptoes to give Mycroft a delicate peck on the lips. They were chapped but soft and Greg got a quick glimpse of heaven. This person understood him.

He turned and ducked inside, running up to his room before his mum could corner him and ask about the date. 

Greg was a best-kept secret that had failed to be kept.


	2. Dysphoria

Ch 2- Dysphoria

 Greg dug his fists into his hair, pulling at it roughly. He felt like screaming, but had nowhere to do it. The last few minutes of the date had served as a stark reminder of what he could never be. When he was with Mycroft, god he could just forget all his pretenses, all his lies, and just be himself. He switched on the radio, cranking the alt station and letting his own anger drown in the singer’s. 

His room betrayed him, soft purple on the walls, close-up photos of hot singers, even a jewelry box. It was still  _ his,  _ but it just screamed girl. Maybe he should phone Mycroft, tell him off for putting those delusional ideas into his head, he was obviously a girl.  _ Obviously.  _ But he knew the truth, no matter how much he hid or denied it. No matter how much everyone he knew would hate it. 

He combed over himself in the mirror that hung on his wall, and well, he was so... _ pretty.  _ Not classically, but enough where his mother’s friends cooed over her beautiful girl. He appreciated his mother giving him a place to stay, but he could only take so much, no matter how objectively right they were. Why did he want to ruin what a nice thing he had going? Why did he have to be so selfish? Why did he have to know what it was like to be anything other than Annalise? Why had he been offered that small glimpse into the what-could-be?

He knew how he really looked. Not right. Those were the only words that kept rapidly cycling through his head. He wasn’t...right. 

He threw open his closet doors, looking for something to change into that didn’t itch his spirit so. All that showed inside, however, were increasingly feminine clothes. Obviously. What excuse would he have for shopping in the men’s section. There was nothing that would make him look proper. He just wanted to look right, damnit! Maybe wear something on his next date that would tell the world who he was, not just Mycroft Holmes. But he couldn’t. He quickly grabbed the most masculine thing in his closet, a plaid red and black flannel his aunt had gotten him to protect against the cold weather. It was still technically a “woman’s” shirt but it was something. He quickly changed  out of his date clothes into the flannel and some black slacks. He looked back in the mirror, and he almost looked...passable? He ran a finger through his short waves of hair. Except for his baby face, which made him look like he was twelve instead of twenty-two. And the protruding chest, of course. He crossed his arms over it, trying to push it back, as if it would go away. Life was so much simpler when he didn’t have to think about these things.It’s not like he wasn’t destined to stay in the closet like his flannel to avoid disappointing everyone he knew. God, he wouldn’t be able to stand it. His mother would cry if she knew. 

But did he deserve to live like this, repressed and suffering? Did he not deserve to scream it to the world like so many others had? Did he not deserve happiness? 

He was furious, but he wasn’t sure who towards.

Greg tried to let the music drown out his thoughts, but to no avail. His mom would be coming up to check on him soon, she always did he was brooding. But how did he explain this? He didn’t. He simply didn’t. His mother didn’t deserve what was clearly just young adult angst and confusion. And she shouldn’t see him looking like this. Greg quickly changed into a nightgown, hung up the clothes he’d been wearing, threw his dress in the hamper, and curled into bed just as his mother came through the door.  

“Annie, how was your date?” The rosy-cheeked woman beamed down at him, but there was worry in her eyes. Greg had to stifle a groan. He knew how much his mum wanted him to date a bloke, so that he wouldn’t be seen as gay. His mother had never been hateful, she just knew of all the hate that existed and strived to protect him in every aspect. If she only knew what he really was... 

No. He shoved the thought out of his mind. Never. 

“It was lovely, Mum,” He replied, “Very nice young man. I reckon I’ll see him again soon.”

“Oh, that’s just fantastic! You have fun, enjoy yourself!”

“I will, Mum.” 

He had better see Mycroft soon. 

Now that he had his fix of being Greg, he never wanted to be anything else. And he especially didn't want to lose his fix of Mycroft Holmes. 

His mother scurried off, content with the exchange. Greg threw his head back against the headboard with a painful but satisfying thud. He was going to relax, keep the music blaring, forget everything that had crossed his mind. But he couldn’t help but leap at his phone the second it buzzed. 

_ Sorry for the delay-MH  _

**You realize it’s only been a half an hour since you left**

_ Apologies, I only wished to convey my eagerness to speak to you again. -MH _

**Oh, you right flirt**

_ Am I? Hadn’t realized. Never done this whole dating thing before. -MH _

**Catch like you? I’m surprised.**

The very thought made Greg feel remarkably special. To have Mycroft devote time to him in a way he had done for no one else before was...absolutely incredible. To think he could be that... 

_ Get to know me. You’ll begin to understand others’ distance. -MH _

Greg’s lip pouted out at the thought of others rejecting the first one to accept who he was. To reject such an interesting, caring young man if they’d only look past the front. 

_ I know what you’re thinking. There will be others who accept your gender. Don’t date me just for that. -MH _

**Don’t be ridiculous, I like YOU. So don’t go saying otherwise. Alright, mate?**

_ In that case, shall I see you Friday? 7? -MH _

**Sounds incredible!**

_ Splendid -MH _

 


	3. Second Date

Greg had barely been able to contain himself over the four days he waited for his next date with Mycroft. The man was so posh and handsome, and so very out of Greg’s league, that he couldn’t believe Mycroft hadn’t run when he had the chance. He got to see him again! Greg bounded down the stairs when the doorbell rang.   
He hadn’t dolled himself up the way he had for the first date. Why bother? Mycroft knew the truth and still liked him. God, was Greg gushing for him! He had decided to wear the flannel and slacks on the date. He didn’t look proper but at least it was...better. His chest still protruded, but there was nothing to be done about that. His mom had tsked at him as she left while he was getting ready, clearly wondering why he thought he should stop trying for this one. Greg, however, refused to overcompensate for the denial of his gender. He wasn’t in denial anymore. Not with Mycroft.   
He threw open the door and raked his eyes over Mycroft, who was dressed to the nines in a well-fitting suit and tie that made Greg’s mouth water.   
“Is your mother home?”   
“No, she left for work ‘bout twenty minutes ago. Why?”   
“Then I just want to say you look absolutely dashing, Gregory.”   
“You give me the chills talkin’ like that.”  
“Like what?”   
“All seductive sayin’ my name like that and shit.”  
“I do endeavor to please.”   
That was when Greg pulled the man down by the labels and crushed their lips together, just for a brief moment. “You’re certainly...very pleasing.” His voice was low and gravelly.   
Mycroft recoiled a bit, as if shocked and soaking in the words Greg had said to him. As if he had never heard anything like that before. Then, Greg remembered what Mycroft. Never done the whole dating thing before. He probably hadn’t. Was Greg going to fast? The last thing he wanted to do was make Mycroft uncomfortable.   
“I’m sorry, is this too much?” Greg asked, tilting his head in concern. “Am I pushing you too much?”   
“Not at all, I am merely...unaccustomed to affections of the romantic nature. But they are, I’ve found, rather...pleasant.” Mycroft spoke slowly, as if he was flipping through a dictionary in that big old brain of his to pick out just the right words, and if Mycroft’s visible blush was anything to go by, Greg wasn’t making that easy . Greg was amazed he could have such an effect on the genius, and he desperately wanted more. He wanted to kiss him wordless.Date first, though.   
"So what do you have planned for us, Mr. Holmes?" Greg asked, threading his fingers with Mycroft's.   
"How do you feel about musicals?"  
"Bloody love 'em." Greg responded eagerly, wondering exactly what Mycroft had picked out for them. Whatever it was, Greg was sure it was going to be fantastic. Mycroft just gave off a vibe of the incredible.   
"I got us tickets to Something Rotten. Is that alright?"  
"I would prefer something good," Greg joked backed, and continued at Mycroft's concerned expression, "Just a joke on the name, sounds great!"   
"Wonderful," Mycroft hand untensed, relaxing between Greg's fingers like that was where it was built to be. They started to where Mycroft had a long black car waiting for them since it was too far a walk to the theatre. Mycroft and Greg slid in the back, which was divided from the front by a soundproof barrier.   
"This is nice," Greg stated aloud, a warm feeling coursing through him.  
"What is?"   
"Jus' being with you."   
"Flatterer."   
"You like it."   
"I do. I'm still in a great shock, I believe, that we've made it this far." Mycroft said plainly, though Greg listened close enough and heard a tinge of worry in the tone that he found disconcerting. Greg furrowed his brow.  
"You keep saying shit like that. About dating. Why are you so insecure?"   
"I am not insecure, Lestrade."   
"Then what's all this worry about dating for? What's with the last name basis if you aren't worried about something?"  
"I'm afraid that is a rather private matter. Now can we move on and enjoy each other's company instead of ruminating on my past?"   
"Sure," Greg wasn't going to press the issue if it made Mycroft uncomfortable, content, rather, just to enjoy his time in the presence of the young man he was enamored with. Just then, the car rolled up to the theatre. Greg reached tentatively for Mycroft's hand, not wanting to cross any boundaries if the man wanted distance. Blessedly, Mycroft took the proferred hand and led Greg out of the car and into the theatre.   
Their tickets were taken without much fervor, and an usher led them down to their seats in the center of the third row. Greg's eyes kept darting around, taking in the ornate furnishings of the venue, golden designs climbing the walls, and a large chandelier dangling over the midsection of the theatre. Then his attention turned to the stage. Close-up, he could see the flair of Renaissance in the stage design, paintings of perfect Tudor homes lining the back wall of the stage. Every detail was obviously well thought-out and intricate and Greg simply couldn't believe his luck to be so close to the action with great company.   
"I apologize for the distance," Mycroft stated, "The first and second rows were sold out by the time I went to purchase tickets."  
"Are you bloody kidding me," Greg's attention, "This is fantastic!"   
Mycroft gave a small grin, pleased that he had seemed to satisfy his companion. Before he could respond the Greg's eager, excitable expression, the lights went down, the music began playing, and the minstrel stepped out on stage to start the first number of the show. Gregory squeezed Mycroft's hand. He was practically vibrating in his seat. They hushed and let themselves be absorbed in the theatrical magic.   
When the show had finished, laughs having been had. and the actors came running out to take their bows, Greg rocketed out of his seat for a standing ovation. Mycroft stood a moment later, albeit quite a bit calmer than Greg, and joined in on the applause as his date whooped and hollered as favorites of the cast came to the front of the stage. It was clear the show had been pleasing to Greg, and that made Mycroft's lips turn up at the corners. It seemed he had done something right this time around. While applauding, Mycroft found himself distracted by Greg's beaming smile. Yes. He quite wanted this to last.


	4. Insecurity

Ch 4

"Thanks, Myc," Greg smiled against his lips as they kissed goodbye on Greg's front porch. His mother wasn't due home for another hour, so they took their time with gentle pecks without the worry of the woman cooing over her "daughter" and "her" charming boyfriend. Even without that issue, they enjoyed their privacy. 

Pulling away, Greg rested a hand on Mycroft's arm. "I'll see you soon. Text me, okay?" Mycroft nodded, taking that as his cue to leave. He sat down, and turned to see Greg gesturing wildly shouting after him, "Parting is such sweet sorrow!" 

Mycroft couldn't help but chuckle at the reference to the show as the car pulled away. He knew he had work to attend to at the family home, but he wished he could stay with Greg all day. The young man was such good company, and he somehow seemed to enjoy Mycroft's company, unlike his previous dates. Gregory was special, indeed. 

The car rolled up in front of the manner, and Mycroft stepped out on the long path to the front door and started walking along it, lost in thought. He arrived at the front door as Sherlock threw it open.

The teen's face turned up into a sneer, "What are you doing here?" 

"I have some paperwork to take care of, not that it is any of your concern." Mycroft tried to brush past him, not desiring his brother's antics to curtail his good mood, but Sherlock stood steady in the doorframe. 

"So you actually got a second date...And here I was thinking that miracles weren't real." 

"I think it's even more miraculous that you've managed to aquire one at all, brother mine."

"How the hell did you know about that?" Sherlock bristled. 

"The shoes, Sherlock."

"Oh, obviously," Sherlock sighed, obviously disgruntled. Hopefully whoever his date was hopefully could contain him. Mycroft really wasn't in the mood to bail Sherlock out today, "And for your information, he finds me fascinating. Something I'm not sure how your boyfriend has acheived with you." 

"He's not my boyfriend."

"Ah, but you want him to be. Too scared to ask, brother mine?" It was obvious Sherlock had struck a nerve. Mycroft, with all his pomp and circumstance, was still terrified of rejection. He was certain that, no matter how much he desired it, Greg would eventually get sick of him and leave. He wanted to savor the time he had with Greg, instead of hastening the rejection process with the ultimatum of a label to what they were to each other." 

"It was only our second date, I'm not going to rush him," Mycroft declared sternly, "Now I believe you should be off, unless you want to leave him waiting." Mycroft indicated to the battered car that had pulled up in the drive with a young blonde man in the driver's seat. Sherlock perked up remembering his destination, and he rushed off past Mycroft towards the car. 

Sherlock was rambunctious where Mycroft was cordial. Emotional where Mycroft was calculating. But still, when Mycroft saw the look the boy gave to him brother, an open grin and eyes twinkling with genuine affection, he recalled the same look on Gregory's face not too far in the past. It made him feel warm and...happy? This was what happiness felt like. And he felt it awfully intense when it came to Gregory. Maybe Sherlock was right. He was afraid. He didn't want to lose that happiness. He didn't want to lose Greg.    

But he would, wouldn't he? It was a wonder he hadn't been rejected already. Why didn't Greg see what the others saw. The cold, unfeeling heathen with a weight problem. The names they had called him... They wanted a relationship where they could grow to know one another, not one where all their secrets were known immediately. But he couldn't shut off his brain, couldn't help but reveal that he knew a little too much. They didn't like that--him.  

He turned to the paperwork he was filling out for his father, trying to take his mind off the past. They hadn't thought they could hurt him, and he liked to pretend that they didn't, but deep down, it was a mosquito bite that he couldn't scratch. One that made him afraid of the future. And he hated being afraid. He supposed he couldn't prolong the inevitable for too much longer-- one more date. One more, and then he'd ask Greg to be his partner, boyfriend, or whatever term the young man preferred. And then he’d brace for impact. 

He finished the work, and then went to his old bedroom to try and find solace. He needed to stop worrying before he wrecked everything. That was one thing that could be said about Sherlock--he was a lot braver than Mycroft. Less concerned with the fall out. Unaffected by what people thought of him. Mycroft envied that. 

He decided it wouldn’t go to harm to text Gregory, to reinforce his interest him, but found that while he had been working, Greg had already made a point of messaging Mycroft. 

**I can’t get those songs unstuck from my head! You realize you bloody spoil me, right?**

_ That was the intention. You deserve only the best. -MH _

**Ha, well a lad could get used to that!**

_ I do endeavor that to be the case -MH _

**You also spoil me with how bloody handsome you look. It's so unfair that I had to stop looking at you.** Mycroft chuckled, imagining Greg pouting while composing the message.

_ You were quite dashing yourself -MH  _ Mycroft replied honestly. It was true. Greg had looked absolutely lovely, and Mycroft felt a pang of guilt at his unworthiness to be with someone like Greg. 

**You flatterer, there’s no way. I don’t even own any proper men’s clothes!**

_ Your wardrobe doesn’t undermine your devilish good looks -MH _

Mycroft couldn’t believe this. Was he...flirting? Is this how it worked? He decided to go with it. Greg seemed more than amenable to this conversation, at the least. 

**Okay, I have got to see you again soon before I combust. How does next Saturday sound? Not tomorrow but the one after. Maybe we could go to the zoo?**

_ Sounds lovely. I can pick you up at 3 pm. -MH _

**I’ll be waiting!**

Greg was interested and eager, and Mycroft couldn’t believe his luck. Saturday couldn’t come fast enough. Then, perhaps, he’d officially have his first boyfriend.

 


	5. Official

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus, life got crazy...back now, and hope you enjoy!!

Greg was quite proud of himself for thinking up what must be a decent date, considering the sly smile on Mycroft’s face when he got into the long black car. It had been forecast to be a warm day, so Greg had worn an old baggy purple t-shirt and a pair of knee-length jean capris, He had styled his hair just-so, making it stick up in just the right places. He had felt quite alright, ignoring his mother’s glaring look at his legs in all their hairy glory. For anyone else, he would have probably felt guilted into shaving, but this was Mycroft, who accepted him for who he was and was generally just quite lovely about well...everything.   
He slid closer to Mycroft, putting his head on Mycroft’s shoulder and letting out a sigh at the comfort. Mycroft wrapped an arm around him, and it occurred to Greg that Mycroft clearly did not dress for the weather, considering he still wore a black sport coat over a dress shirt and tie. Greg couldn’t help but think Mycroft still looked quite sharp, even though he wasn’t in generally acceptable zoo attire. It seemed very fitting.   
“Hello,” Mycroft greeted him simply, squeezing Greg against him.   
“Hey,” Greg chuckled, leaning up to peck him on the cheek, making Mycroft put forth a rare blush.   
They chatted amiably until the car pulled up to the ZSL London Zoo, and Greg beamed at the sight. It had been ages since he’d been to a zoo, but he could still remember the hustle and bustle from when he was a kid, how every smelt like either animal or unhealthy food, how there was so much noise and color, and how he had stared wide-eyed at the creatures so much mightier than his little self was.   
“Excited, are we?” Mycroft chuckled.  
“I’m coming off a bit eager, I’m guessing?” Greg asked playfully as he bounded out of the car.   
Not much had changed, it seemed, aside from himself. He could still smell the grease in the air and The warm sun echoed off his and the animals' backs. The crowds were still there in throngs, rushing from exhibit to exhibit, lingering on the ones with more activity. Greg made a beeline for his favorite: the lions. He'd always adored them, how even just laying down doing nothing, they still commanded attention. He'd always wanted to be like that, confident, in charge, with all eyes on him. Maybe someday he'd be in charge of something, instead of just another associate at a mindless corporation.   
Speaking of commanding attention, Mycroft was doing just that to Greg. He seemed as powerful as the ferocious beast without needing the size and might. His pure intellect and the way he held himself insisted he be paid attention to. Greg adored it.   
"I take it you like this exhibit," Mycroft chuckled, wrapping his arm around Greg as they stared at the beasts in front of them. The huge tan creatures were luckily in view to the public, lounging in the shade on a flat rock up high, surveying their domain.   
"Have since I was a kid." Greg leaned his head into Mycroft's chest, which is all that he came up to on his date, "They're so...mighty."   
"Mmm,"Mycroft looked ahead absently, soaking in the feeling of Greg pressed against him, hoping beyond hope that this could last. Hoping that, perhaps, Greg would give him a chance, "Did you know, some Botswanan lionesses have been shown to grow manes and begin to act like males?"   
Greg chuckled, "Heh, so trans lions." he snuggled in closer, "So it's not just a human thing."  
Mycroft was pleased with himself that he seemed to have amused Gregory. They sat in silence for a moment, aside from the buzz of the zoo around them. Mycroft decided to chance a brief moment of boldness. "Have you thought about it?"   
"About what?" Greg turned his head to meet Mycroft's eye, and Mycroft was taken aback by the vibrant, vivid brown.   
"Changing your appearance. Transitioning."   
Greg pondered the question, staring ahead blankly, and the internal panic crept over Mycroft that he had ruined everything. Did they even know each other well enough for him to be invading Greg's privacy in such a fashion? But his mind, always desiring information, wanted to know, along with his genuine compassion for the young man at his side. He wanted to support Greg however he could.   
"Yes. I have." Greg said, "I try not to, though. Don't like getting my hopes up for something that's never gonna happen."   
Mycroft reeled, "Why would that never happen?"  
Greg shrugged noncommittally, "That would involve telling people what I am, and there's no way I'll ever be able to do that. I couldn't break my mother's heart like that."   
"But don't you think you deserve to live authentically?"   
"I can with you. Right now, that's enough." Greg offered up a wide, genuine smile, making Mycroft's inside flutter a little, touched that Gregory felt like he could truly be himself around him. He had to ask him. He had to do it. He couldn't let Greg slip away from him. His heart pounded heavier as he tried to formulate the words that would get this fantastic being to perchance decide to stay with him.   
But Greg beat him to it.   
"We should make this official," Greg said, not bothering to phrase it as a question, instead electing to take Mycroft's hand in his.   
"I'd be much obliged." Mycroft felt the anxiety dissipate, replaced by pure thrill.   
He had a boyfriend; It was a feat he never thought would happen. He was fairly certain that no one expected this, not from socially cold Mycroft Holmes. Greg saw past his exterior, and didn't have all those extreme expectations for him that everyone else did. He cared about his happiness, his well-being. He wanted to be with him, Mycroft thought as they continued on with the rest of their date as an official couple.   
That was enough.


End file.
